


tomorrow (i'm coming home)

by Remy (iamremy)



Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, also there is Creepypasta, apparently Ethan can sing, unapologetic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:24:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1935603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy/pseuds/Remy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan's just on his way home from a solo mission when he receives a terrified phone call from Will...</p><p>...who in his absence, has been spending too much time on the internet and is now scared because Creepypasta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tomorrow (i'm coming home)

**Author's Note:**

> I was writing for my other fic when I decided _hey it's been a long time since I scared myself shitless_ and immediately logged on to Creepypasta.
> 
> ...it was a bad idea. But not really because at least something came out of it ~~other than chronic insomnia brought on by pants-shittingly terrifying stuff~~
> 
> Title taken from _Tomorrow_ by Stone Temple Pilots because I'm original like that.

The thing about solo missions is that, well, they’re _solo_.

In a group mission, at least you have the knowledge that your team’s got your back, and will not let you screw up. Even if you do, they will help you fix it. They will be there for you when you want to talk, or when you need help. You will not be _the only one_ , the one who went through something alone and has no one else who experienced it with him.

They’re very lonely.

It’s only been three days, but Ethan misses Will so much that it’s almost a physical ache. He’s scheduled to be home in another four days, when his recon mission will be over. Not for the first time, he wishes he could have brought his team along, but the Director put his foot down firmly when Ethan suggested it. It’s extremely important that Ethan do this mission alone – having even one more person along would put the whole thing in jeopardy.

And for security reasons, Ethan hasn’t been allowed to contact anyone for the duration of his mission, not even the IMF. Intel is being dropped off for him at random locations, disclosed via unmarked, untraceable text messages that are deleted within 5 seconds of being opened.

It’s not the first time he’s done a solo mission – far from it, actually, since after Phelps and before Davian, he’d done _only_ solo missions – but it’s the first time he’s doing one with the knowledge that someone somewhere is waiting for him to come back. And that, for some messed up reason, makes the entire thing seem to drag on longer.

One week. It feels like a month.

 A very long month. One Ethan can’t wait to get over with.

The mission’s not even that hard, but he feels dead tired and just so done, and he knows why. Even if it’s just for seven days, the loneliness can be overwhelming sometimes. But he’s an IMF agent, and he’s been trained better than this. So he forces himself to compartmentalize and do what needs to be done, and the only time he thinks about Will and his team – his family – is when he lies down to sleep at the end of each day.

* * *

The seventh day comes as a huge relief, and he can’t finish his job faster. He has to actually take a moment to force himself to slow down – rushing won’t help matters, might make them worse actually, and it won’t make the day go by any slower.

He completes his mission successfully, and instead of taking some time to relax, he just washes his face, changes his clothes, grabbed his already-packed bag and gets in the first cab he finds. He switches on his personal cell phone on the ride home, and the first person he calls is the Director.

“I’m done, sir,” he says, and smiles a little as he thinks of what he would have said had the cabbie not been there. _Mission accomplished._ What a corny line, and yet it’s becoming his catchphrase. Luther would have a stroke if he knew.

“Good job, Hunt,” replies the Director briskly. “Now take a break – you deserve it.”

“Will do, sir.”

He desperately wants to call Will next, but restrains himself because of the cabbie. Not only does he want to talk to Will with no one listening, he also wants to discuss the mission with him. Which he very obviously can’t do in a cab.

So he waits till he’s at the airport.

However, he decides against it when he gets there; it still seems somehow not appropriate to call Will, instead of talk to him face-to-face. He’ll talk when he gets home – it’ll be better that way, anyway. Maybe he can even surprise Will by coming home a couple hours earlier than Will expects, if he can manage it.

It would be a nice plan – except that Will calls him first, his voice shaking and sounding a lot like he’s terrified.

* * *

 There’s half an hour left to boarding when Ethan’s phone rings. The name on the screen – _Will Brandt_ – makes him smile. He’s not really surprised; if he could barely restrain himself from flooding their home phone with voicemails, then obviously Will would be going through the same thing.

He picks up. “Hey,” is all he manages to say before Will completely steamrollers over him.

“Ethan _oh my God Ethan how are you_ you need to get home as fast as you can okay I mean you know I would never ask this of you and I’m not trying to pressure you or anything but _please just get home_ I don’t even care if you have to drive recklessly to do it I mean ‘reckless’ is your middle name _just_ –”

“Holy shit, Will, _slow down_ ,” interjects Ethan when Will takes a pause for breath. His voice is trembling, and he sounds really, _really_ frightened, and it chills Ethan down to his core. Will’s a hardened agent, and _nothing_ fazes him.

“Sorry,” breathes Will. “I just – I just can’t be alone right now.”

“What is it?” Ethan asks, wondering if he should panic now, or maybe wait until after Will’s explanation.

“I’m not dying or under attack,” Will says at once, “and yeah, I just realized that my senseless rambling might have given that impression, but.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m fine. Ish. I mean. I’ve been better. I just. The place looks really big without you, and well. I don’t like it.”

Ethan lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding in. _Will’s fine_ , he tells himself. _No need to panic or freak out_. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, Will. You had me worried for a moment there.”

“Sorry,” says Will apologetically.

“No, no, don’t apologize. It’s okay. What’s the matter?”

Will sighs. “This is going to sound extremely dumb – hell, I feel silly just saying it out loud, but – I’m kinda feeling scared to be in the house alone.” There’s a short pause, and then, “How long till you get home?”

“I’m at the airport, I’m still six hours away,” replies Ethan apologetically, wanting nothing more than to somehow teleport himself to Will. “Could you call Benji or Jane, maybe?”

“I would, but–” Will sighs again. “Ethan, it’s the middle of the night here. And in any case, Jane had a date last night, so I’m not gonna be the one who ends up accidentally cockblocking her, unless someone’s dead, or dying. And I don’t wanna bother Benji, he’s had a long day today. He had to help one of the trainers out with his computer. Jeb McLachlan, you know him? I think you do. Anyway, the idiot actually went and deleted system32.exe off his computer, and _of course_ it crashed. Who the hell does that?? So Benji had to go help him out, only he kept arguing with Benji and what should have been a simple fix took three hours.”

Ethan’s been trying to find a pause in that monologue since ‘cockblocking’, but when Will gets to rambling there’s no force on earth that will shut him up, and so Ethan just resigns himself to hearing the long-winded story out to its conclusion. And this is relatively short, compared to some of the rants he’s been treated to over the years. Really, he’s gotten off light here.

Finally he says, “Maybe you could call Luther?”

“He’s on a mission,” Will replies morosely. “Did you know he’s planning on proposing to Alicia? He thinks I don’t know but _pfft person please_ I’m an analyst. It’s a nice ring though. He’s thinking he’ll take her out on a date and do the traditional thing and go down on one knee. Cute, I guess, except that the mental image of Luther going down on one knee is kinda… disturbing? I mean, I’ve witnessed that man _kill people_.”

Ethan actually sounds amused when he answers, “I’ve killed people and I’m still in a long-term relationship with you, aren’t I?”

“Well _yeah_ because I’ve killed people too,” answers Will, and his eye-roll is almost audible over the phone. “Alicia isn’t even a field agent.”

“We’re talking about killing people on an open phone line,” realizes Ethan, and has to stifle a laugh. “We’ll get arrested or something.”

“Whatever,” dismisses Will. “Jane will bail us out. Anyway, so yeah basically I’m home alone and it’s creepy as fuck.”

Ethan thinks he recognizes the issue here. “Will… has work been kinda slow this past week?”

“Yeah,” Will answers. “I had barely anything to do at home because I finished everything in the office. It’s horrible.”

“Aaaaand… because you’ve been terribly bored, you’ve been browsing the internet.”

“Yes. Yes, as a matter of fact, I have.”

“And it only took you a couple of days to move past the cute cat pictures and the weird memes, and off into the darker corners of the internet.”

“Actually, no. It took me half a day,” corrects Will. “I’d run out of cat pictures, the memes got boring, and there was nothing else to do.”

“I have a very good idea of where this is going,” declares Ethan, and some of his smugness leaks through to his tone.

“Yes, okay, I admit it,” snaps Will. “I discovered Creepypasta, okay?”

Ethan can’t help it anymore – he starts laughing. Loudly, without any inhibitions. People stop and stare, and he gives no shits; he just goes on laughing into the phone and completely ignoring Will’s indignation.

“You are a grown-ass man,” he finally says when he’s done, using his free hand to wipe his eyes. “Seriously, that website is for bored teenagers and superstitious people who have nothing better to do.”

“Then why was it bookmarked?” demands Will.

That makes Ethan stop short. “Shit, really?” he remarks. “I bookmarked it?”

“Yes, you did, and thanks to you, asshole, I’ve lost a good night’s sleep,” complains Will. “I hope you’re happy. I also hope you stay wide awake throughout your six-hour flight and think of what you’ve done.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Ethan retorts, grinning. “And yes, I did bookmark it a long time ago – but if I remember correctly, it didn’t make much of an impression.”

“You’re lying,” Will tells him. “I remember one night, a year or so ago, you totally crawled into bed and cuddled me like I was a gigantic teddy bear, okay. And it has just occurred to me that it may have been a Creepypasta-induced behavior.”

“Fucking analysts,” grumbles Ethan, defeated. “All right, sorry I laughed at you.”

“You’re forgiven,” Will replies, “but it still doesn’t solve my issue.”

“Well, you know none of that’s real, right?” questions Ethan. “Just don’t let it bother you. Distract yourself or something.”

“I tried,” Will tells him. “But I’ve read every book in the house, and when I turned on the TV they had _Paranormal Activity_ on. Also the moon isn’t out tonight, and there’s a tree branch situated _very conveniently_ outside our window, and it feels like I’m in a bad horror movie. You know, the character that says _I’ll be right back_ and then dies violently.”

“You’re not gonna die violently,” Ethan assures him. “Just sit tight. Take a pill and go to sleep – I’ll be home before you’re awake.”

“We’re out of pills and I’m not gonna make the drive to a drugstore,” replies Will, sounding irritated with the entire situation. “Fuck this shit, really. Next time Benji suggests something scary for movie night I will personally knock him out and dump his body in the streets.”

“You guys had a movie night?” _Without me?_ he almost adds. For some reason – perhaps it’s the lonesomeness he’s dealt with the past few days – the thought brings a lump to his throat.

“Yeah,” says Will quietly. “I didn’t want one, but Benji said it would cheer me up. Of course, the little shit thought it would be a good idea to watch _Drag Me to Hell_ – right after I’d found Creepypasta, too. He didn’t know, but he still laughed at me because I yelled a bit.” Will sounds a bit hurt.

Ethan swallows, and tries to console Will. “Ah, you know Benji. He probably didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I missed you a lot,” admits Will. “You wouldn’t have laughed at me. It probably feels worse because I had to go home to an empty place, but still.”

“Just six hours, and I’ll be there,” Ethan says, trying to reassure himself as much as Will. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Yeah, but not by much. I mean, I’m still alone, and it’s windy, and the bloody branch won’t stop moving. And you know that creepy sound wind makes when it blows through leaves? Yeah. There’s that too.”

Okay, yeah, that would scare anyone, concedes Ethan. He’s never been one for horror movies, but he does know what it’s like to be all alone in a house that feels too big, without anything to do – it’s practically an embellished invitation to loneliness and fear.

Just that moment, the woman over the PA announces that it’s time to board, and Ethan gets up and takes his small carry-on. “It’s time to get on the plane,” he tells Will regretfully. “I’ll tell you what – where are you right now?”

“Home,” answers Will.

“Yes, I know that. I meant, which room are you in?”

“Uh… living-room,” Will replies, sounding confused. “Why?”

Instead of answering his query, Ethan says, “Get into bed. Time for you to sleep.”

“I’ve told you, I can’t sleep,” Will reminds him.

“Just get into bed, Will.”

“Fine.”

There’s a pause, and Ethan can hear Will’s soft footsteps as he walks to the bedroom. There’s no _click_ of lights being switched off, and Ethan, who’s usually a notorious stickler about lights being off when there’s no one in the room, decides to let it slide this time. Will’s already quite spooked, and a dark house won’t make matters any better.

He shows the woman at the gate his ticket, and she smiles and wishes him a pleasant flight. He’s just stepped into the passageway to the plane when Will speaks. “Okay, I’m in bed. What now?”

“Just keep talking to me,” instructs Ethan.

“I wish you were here,” Will says. “I’d rather talk to you properly, you know, on the couch or while eating or even in bed. This kind of sucks. Also, I’ve run out of things that I can talk about on the phone without being possibly arrested or being in danger of accidentally leaking highly classified information.”

“Hmm, well…” Ethan thinks for a moment or so. “Okay,” he says suddenly, an idea having come to him. “I’m gonna do a thing, okay? Put the phone on loudspeaker and put it next to yourself.”

There’s a momentary silence as Will does as told. Ethan uses that time to smile at the stewardess at the entrance of the plane, and make his way inside.

“Okay,” Will says a few seconds later. “What now?”

“Close your eyes,” Ethan tells him, glancing down at his ticket to confirm his seat number. “Just… relax, I guess. Pretend I’m there with you.”

“Can’t,” is Will’s rather amused reply, “because there’s no one hogging the sheets or complaining about my cold feet.”

“I don’t do that,” protests Ethan half-heartedly, finally finding his seat. He squeezes the phone between his shoulder and ear, and puts his bag in the overhead storage.

“Yes, you do,” Will tells him. “Anyway – you were saying?”

He’s got the window seat, and he settles in and puts on his seatbelt, before asking, “You closed your eyes yet?”

“Yes.”

Ethan takes a deep breath, looks around to ensure that no one will be disturbed, and begins to sing. He starts out a bit slow and unsure of himself – he doesn’t usually sing over the phone on a commercial airline (because the Director said that he couldn’t spare a jet, and in any case it would look too extravagant and wouldn’t suit the alias he used on his mission, just in case someone was keeping an eye on him).

_Should I fall out of love, my fire in the light_   
_To chase a feather in the wind_   
_Within the glow that weaves a cloak of delight_   
_There moves a thread that has no end_

Will must have put the phone right next to his head, on the pillow – Ethan can hear him breathe. At first it’s a bit fast, and Ethan puts that down to the fright and the rambling. His own voice gets a bit stronger and firmer, though he keeps the volume low.

_For many hours and days that pass ever soon_   
_The tides have caused the flame to dim_   
_At last the arm is straight, the hand to the loom_   
_Is this to end, or just begin?_

Will’s breathing slower now, and he seems to have relaxed some. He’s still awake, though, and aptly listening – that much Ethan can still tell.

An elderly man appears at the front of the aisle and makes his way to Ethan’s row, putting his small backpack in the overhead storage and sitting down next to Ethan, in his evidently assigned seat. He shoots Ethan a strange look but Ethan ignores him, carrying on.

_All of my love, all of my love  
All of my love to you_

_All of my love, all of my love  
Oh, all of my love to you_

The man spares him a sideways glance, apparently puts him down as some kind of nutcase, and begins reading the _In Case of Emergency_ leaflet from the pocket in front. Meanwhile, Will’s breathing is getting slower still, and deeper, and Ethan can almost picture him – lying there in semi-darkness (he’s most definitely got the lamp on), eyes closed, curled under the huge comforter, slowly breathing in and out. The image makes him more homesick, and the ache in his chest intensifies. _Just six more hours_ , he tells himself.

_The cup is raised, the toast is made yet again_   
_One voice is clear above the din_   
_Proud Arianne one word, my will to sustain_   
_For me, the cloth once more to spin_

_All of my love, all of my love  
All of my love to you_

_All of my love, all of my love  
Oh, all of my love to you_

Will’s almost asleep, going by his breathing. Ethan thinks of the way his lashes rest on his cheeks when his eyes are closed, and resolves never to go on a solo mission again. One week’s fucked him up this bad, he’s not even going to think about what a longer mission could do.

He sighs wistfully, and continues singing. The old man is still throwing him odd looks, but he almost doesn’t notice.

_Yours is the cloth, mine is the hand that sews time_   
_His is the force that lies within_   
_Ours is the fire, all the warmth we can find_   
_He is a feather in the wind_

He sings the chorus one last time, and then stops. In the ensuing silence he can hear Will’s deep, steady breathing, and understands that Will’s finally asleep. The old man has finished the leaflet and is now examining the barf bag closely.

All sense dictates that since Will is now asleep and his purpose has been achieved, Ethan should now hang up. However, he just can’t bring himself to do it. It’s as if all of the seven days he’s been alone converge on him in that moment, and it’s all he can do not to start crying or something equally mortifying.

So in the end he just leans his head back against the seat and closes his eyes, and listens to Will breathe in, out, in, out. It provides a strange kind of peace, even if it can only add to the ache inside him. Still, it’s something, and it helps in a miniscule yet oddly significant way.

He doesn’t hang up until the stewardess tells him that he needs to switch his phone off for the flight.

* * *

 The first thing he wants to do after he lands is to go home, _at once_ , but unfortunately he has to stop by HQ first for a debriefing. That’s an agonizing forty-five minutes that he spends tapping his fingers restlessly on every surface and shifting in his seat, suffering through the Director’s glaring and talking, and when he’s dismissed he practically flies out the door.

The lights are still on when he enters the house, and one by one he switches them off on his way to their room. He sets his bag down just inside the door and smiles widely when he spots Will, who appears as a loosely curled lump under the covers with just the top of his head sticking out.

He takes his shoes and socks off as quickly as possible without making any sounds, and gets into bed next to Will. As expected, Will’s cell phone is right next to his head, and Ethan quietly places it on Will’s side table. He switches off the lamp too, before getting under the covers and slowly, carefully wrapping his arms around Will.

Will stirs a little and mumbles something unintelligible, but doesn’t wake. Instead he just snuggles closer to Ethan and mumbles some more into his shirt. Ethan catches the words “pie” and “demon” and rolls his eyes at what he assumes is probably another one of Will’s weird dreams, which he’s definitely gonna be hearing all about later.

But for now he just closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He’s _home_.

**Author's Note:**

> Song is _All My Love_ by Led Zeppelin. Listen to it, seriously. It's _amazing_.
> 
> Feedback is love <33


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